My Dear Fathers
by Fairytale Love and Chocolate
Summary: [Dragonborn's Daughter/OC-Centric] She was the Dragonborn's Daughter. The blood of a Legend. Her Mother was a hero, the saviour of Nirn. But the one thing she could never be was a Mother. This is the story about the daughter of the Dragonborn, and how her life unfolded, with a mother who was never there and fathers who kept on changing. For Runa Fair-Shield
1. Chapter 1

_This story means so much to me, so please be nice :) This is chapter 1/13_

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**My Dear Fathers**

Chapter One

I was born in the spring, the 28th of Rain's Hand in the year 4E 195. My brother came minutes just before. Our mother would tell us it was a rainy day, and that everything water falling from the sky was still. She told us, not even the market stalls were open and not one visitor had walked through the gates of Solitude. There was nothing spectacular about that day, and it had belonged solely to us. It was just a consolation of course, as there was nothing special about a name day, not for a twin, especially the girl who happened to be born second. We both found comfort however, as all children would.

Father told us it was the second happiest day of his life. He told us that Hroar and I were his favourite pieces of the world. Father said that when I was born, I did not wail, nor did I fret. I was a pink-faced wrinkly babe, but I was beautiful and well, and he could not have hoped for more. I was a calm child, loving the sound of Father's lute. Hroar, however was another story. Red-faced and beautiful, he was the loudest child Father, Mother and Lydia had ever heard. Father would always pat Hroar's blond hair and say, "The lungs of a singer, and the brains of an ogre," Mother would chastise him and then he and Hroar would play chase. Father was always a lovely man who loved my brother and me dearly, but the day that he loved most was the day he wed Mother. How I used to love to hear of this day. Father would tell it different than Mother and I very much loved his version more. He spoke of Mother's beauty and the crown made of Blue Mountain flowers. He spoke of her red hair and pale lips. He told us of the vows and the words they made promise. Mother however, told it differently in a manner far less enticing for a girl of four. Her eyes would shine and the corners of her lips would twitch upwards. "It was a wedding like any other," she told me, continuing with whatever she was doing. "The wedding is never quite as important as the marriage itself."

When I was very young, I asked Lydia why she was not married. "I have other duties," she said, brushing my wavy locks. "You, for example. I must aid the Thane Elaira in raising you."

"But mommy has daddy, and she does good at raising me," I protested, turning to look at Lydia in the mirror.

"My life is to serve you, Loralei, you and your family. A Housecarl protects." She said resting the silver hairbrush down on the night stand. "Now dear, no more questions. Would you like a story before bedtime?" I nodded and smiled up at her, bright eyed but feeling tired.

"Alright, get under your covers." I did as told and Lydia pulled my soft sheets up to my chin. "What story would you like to hear?"

"Will you sing like Mother does?" I demanded, snuggling deeper into my feather pillow. Stroking my back she began to sing, "_Oh there once was a hero named Ragnar the Red…_" Soon enough I was asleep.

I loved Lydia with all my heart, and I believe I always will. Perhaps more than I loved Mother herself. Lydia was more than my Housecarl, she was my Guardian, my true Guardian Angel. She protected me more than even Kynareth herself. Lydia was a beautiful woman, with dark hair and grey eyes. She raised me from babe to woman, and there is not a soul I love more. Not even my dear fathers.

I have fond memories of all of them, perhaps not enough. Onmund, my blood father was a great man. He wielded magic like the sky carried the stars. His face was scarred but unbroken and his green eyes were joyful. They all taught me many lessons, lessons I shan't ever let leave my mind. Perhaps it was my first father that taught me the most. He taught me my first words, my first steps. He taught me the meaning of 'father', of 'brother' and of 'mother'. He taught me how to ride a horse, and how to read. My father taught me what I needed to survive. It was the gift that every father was required to give.

He was also more than that. He was not a father I felt forced to love, but I did love him. I loved his scarred hands and the tales he would tell me before bed. I loved the little notes he would leave me before his short trips across Skyrim. They would be sweet words, comforting words, even humorous. While I had always been more drawn to father however, and him to me, Hroar found preference in Mother. He would go to her with bad dreams of wetted beds. He would listen to her tales and fall asleep to her songs. He would pick her blue mountain flowers during his fishing trips with father. Hroar loved our Mother; he idolized her. He thought her brave, smart, cunning and funny. He saw no wrong in the woman who came to wrong us all.

Autumn came all too soon in the year 4E 201, with leaves littering the streets of Solitude and the villagers everywhere preparing for the upcoming winter. Night was falling and I had torn my dress playing tag with Hroar. I opened the door to the Proudspire Manor basement to be greeted by Hroar's skeever, called Critter. I heard mother and father upstairs and as I made my way their voices became clearer. Mother said, avoiding all attempts of interruption, "As Thane, it's my duty… Potema … the children…" When it was Father's turn he made no effort to calm his voice.

"Elaira, I do not care of your title, as your husband, it is my duty to _protect_ our family!" I continued quietly up the steps, and when I reached the top neither Mother nor Father noticed me lurking.

"I do not need your protection, Onmund! In fact, my skills best any of yours by far!"

"I will not let you go in there –" Father began before seeing me. "Loralei, sweet what are you doing here? You were told to go play outside," father said, his green eyes calming.

"Daddy, my dress is broken," I said, looking from mother, whose eyebrows were furrowed to Fsather, who wore only curiosity.

"Lydia!" Mother called, walking towards me. "Are you alright, love? Where's your brother?"

"I'm okay, Mother. Hroar still plays," I told her as she gently knelt down, holding my shoulders tightly.

"Is something the matter, my Thane?" Lydia asked, wearing my mother's previous concern. Kissing my cheek my mother stood and turned and turned to Lydia.

"Get her bathed and changed, I'm going to go get Hroar," Mother strode across the room to the tall doors of our Manor. "Onmund, we'll talk tonight," she said before walking out the door. Lydia took my hand and led me to the bathing chambers.

The next morning it was Lydia who woke us. Mother and Father were absent as Hroar, Lydia and I broke our fast on the small table on the landing of the stairs. Lydia was always the most admirable cook, and Hroar and I said no words as we devoured our delicious meal. Breakfast cakes and food too fancy to pronounce filled me up to the point of pure bliss. When we were finished, Hroar finally posed the question. "Where are Mother and Father, Housecarl?"

"They are preparing for travel, Hroar. They should be back later to say goodbye. Now, before you go play, you need to do your chores," I nodded and excused myself as Hroar let out a sigh.

I was probably the only child in the world that enjoyed chores. It was always peaceful to me, and everything was always better neat and tidy. I enjoyed the soft wisps as the straw brooms danced around on the stone floors. I enjoyed tending my horse at the stables not far from the cities and I loved seeing my chamber free of clutter and of dust. The only chore that I disliked was tending to the dirtied plates.

"I hate this," Hroar proclaimed, "all the other kids always get to play!"

"Well, Hroar, they don't have Lydia, I'm sure they do a lot more," I told him, scooping up my pile. "And Daddy and Lydia always bring us treats when we do it well,"

"I can't wait till Mother and Papa go on this trip," Hroar proclaimed excitedly, "they always get us the nicest stuff."

"Yeah, that flute Mother brought home last time was nice,"

"Oh please, Loralei, my wooden sword is _so_ much better! I'm a knight! You're just a little girl." I huffed and frowned.

"I could be a bard, you know!" Hroar only laughed and I had to fight back tears. He was so stupid. "And Father knows I'm _so much_ smarter than you!"

"Does not!" He proclaimed, putting his hands on his hips.

"Does too!" I protested, crossing my arms, and lifting my chin.

"Does _not_!"

"Yes he does! He said it himself you can go ask him!"

"You're just a dumb little girl who's just a goody goody who thinks she can play the flute even though she's not even better than a horker!"

"You're the horker brain!"

"Yeah, well you're a Spider-Brat!"

"Oh _really?_ At least I don't smell worse than my own pet skeever!"

"Orc foot!"

"Falmer-Face!"

"Troll-Toe!"

Our argument was only interrupted by the sound of the door opening. In near synchronization we dropped our brooms. I ran into my Father's arms, as did Hroar with Mother. His arms were tight around me and the fabric of his robes was familiar, the scent of the Solitude air. After hugging, our parents knelt down to reach our eye level. My father put his hands on the sides of my face, his large hands tugging gently at my large ears. "You've always had my ears," he whispered to me. I grabbed his ears gently, receiving a giggle from the man. We both slowly let go as Mother began to speak.

"Alright children," Mother began, her brilliant green eyes sparkling with something I couldn't understand. "Your Papa and I are going to be gone for a few days, okay?" I could hardly concentrate on her words. I always thought Mother was the most beautiful like this, her long, dark, curls falling over her shoulders, red war paint around her eyes. She was clad in tight armor, all of her weapons set in place. Her dark sword which was so mesmerizingly black, was sheathed in a black sheathe which was somehow even darker. Her shrouded armor, I knew was so worn, but barely a scratch made it through. I was mesmerized by my mother, who I thought was so beautiful, so strong. I'd seen her wield her bow before and I knew that no man or woman nor creature could ever defeat her.

I remember thinking that I was nothing like her. Even at the age of six I thought I could never be as amazing as Mother. I wished that the gifts she passed on to me would surpass the hard line of our jaws and the stunning green of our eyes. Perhaps we were more similar than I thought, but in that moment, Mother was someone I knew I could not live up to.

"Hroar, my brave boy," Mother kissed him on the cheek before whispering in his ear. She took my hands next. "Loralei, my girl," she planted a chaste kiss on my forehead and leaned in to whisper, "I love you, Loralei. And understand that when I am gone, for long, for short or forever, that you will always be loved, okay? And that you are the Woman of the House until I return, but be good to Lydia. She loves you, and cares for you. I love you, Loralei." I smiled. It was what she said each time. And every time, Mother and Father always came back, safe.

"Have fun, Mama!" Hroar said with a dimply smile. Mother returned it and stood up to let Papa say his temporary goodbyes. His was quicker, which was fine because I knew he would have left us notes in our room.

"Hroar… Loralei, my darling children. I love you, and I promise the next time we meet, I shall spoil you rotten." Papa gave us kisses through a fit of giggles and they were on their way.

I remember the 1st of Sun's Dusk 4E 201 exactly, from the moment I woke. I had been dreaming of something beautiful, but it was something I could not understand until many years later. I was at the peak of a mountain, the wind blowing hard, but leaving me unaffected. Blue petals flew all around me and I spread my black, scaled wings. The feeling was incomprehensible and exhilarating. I could see nothing and everything all around me and it was as if time itself did not exist. The world had stopped to let the wind blow, to let me fly. I opened my mouth and I sang. I sang loudly, but my voice was lost in the wind. I could not hear the sounds of my vibrations, but I knew the world below me did. My entire existence had led up to that point, at this peak of the mountain. And though my wings were spread from my perch and I was ready, the world was not, and though I tried to fly the wind would not let me. The wind began to circle around me harder and harder, the Blue petals on the wind grew in number and eventually I had to let it all suffocate me.

I had woken up wet with sweat and tears. I screamed and shook and eventually both Hroar and Lydia were rocking me to sleep. Hroar softly sung in my ear, "_Oh, there once was a hero named Ragnar the Red,_"

Eventually I had fallen back into a dreamless sleep until I was woken once more, this time by Lydia's gentle hand on my shoulder.

"Loralei, get up," I did as told, and went to help Lydia wake up Hroar who put up a good fight. She dressed us in black and held our hands as she led us through the city. There was a chill in the air that morning, and the only sounds I could hear were the creaking of the Store signs and the sellers at their market stalls. Only few people were up and about, some store owners fiddling with their shop locks, and some mothers going out to get breakfast foods.

The trees were damp, and I realised that it had probably rained the night before. All throughout the town of Solitude, there was a strange dreariness, and perhaps it was the morning air or the lack of energy, but I did not know.

Lydia led us through the cobblestone road, all the way to the Hall of the Dead. There was a big, black box in the middle of the small cemetery, and before it stood eight people. They stood around the big box, touching their amulet of the Divines. The one who held the Amulet of Zenithar was a man with dark brown hair and a strong jaw. Stendarr was in the hands of the woman with pointed ears, the only elf there. I did not pay attention to the others, finding myself being drawn instead to the Nord that stood in the middle. She had red hair like my mother, and big ears like my father. Her cheeks were rosy and warm, even in the morning cold. I looked down to her pale, delicate hands to see she held the Amulet of Akatosh.

It took me a moment to realise that there was a woman kneeling by the big box, her armoured figure hunched over. It was mother. "Mama?" I called. She looked back at me, her war paint smeared and her eyes dark and tired. Her hair seemed dirty and it seemed as though all the youth and beauty had left her once-pretty face. Hroar ran towards her, his arms wrapping around her. Mother hugged him back, but it seemed like an empty embrace.

Slowly, I walked towards my brother and Mother. "Where is father?" I asked absently as I peered into the big box. Inside laid a man in Mage robes in a bed of blue flower petals. As I stared at my father's face, I could hear the Priest with red hair say, "May his soul rest in Sovngarde for the rest of eternity,"

In the beginning I did not ever fully understand. I had asked Hroar what had happened and all he could tell me was, "Father is in Sovngarde, with Ysgramor."

Lydia tried to explain it to me as well, with words I still could not comprehend. "Your father is gone now, in a better place, and when it is your turn, you will see him again, in Sovngarde."

I asked my mother as well, but she refused to see me all together. She refused to see anyone. She stayed in her chambers and only went out to empty her chamber pot and bathe. Lydia brought mother her meals, morning, noon and evening, and Mother barely touched it. Hroar and I would eat all our meals with only Lydia and Critter.

Once, only a few days after the Hall of the Dead, I woke up in the Middle of the Night, from a nightmare I can no longer recall. I got myself out of bed and made my way to knock on Mother's closed door. However before I could knock on the cold hard wood, I heard a whimper. It was soft, but the harder I listened I could hear her muffled wails. Slowly and quietly I slid down and sat; my back leaning against the door. I could still hear mother's cries, so I did what I knew always dried my tears.

It started out as a whisper just loud enough so I knew Mother could hear. "_Oh, there once was a hero named Ragnar the Red_…"

It was the first time the song that could free my sorrows, had ever wet my cheeks.

When the song was over the door slowly opened, and I felt my mother's arms wrap around me. She picked up my small body and kicked the door shut. She carried me to the bed, and as I drifted back into sleep, I heard her whisper, "I'm so sorry,"

I woke up to an empty bed the morning next.

Two months mother was gone and there was no word from her. During the first few days, it all seemed normal enough. Mother had left for many days at a time before, for work as Lydia would tell us. Hroar told me to pretend Father was with Mother, adventuring like they told tales of. So, I convinced myself that this was the truth. We continued our breakfasts and dinners and lunches. We continued to play and do our own chores. We continued on, waiting patiently for mother to come home. However, when one week turned into two, Hroar and I began to worry. Together we wrote her a latter which read:

_Deer Mama,_

_We miss you. Com home. _

_Luv, Hroar end Loralei_

Hroar glued on a Blue Mountain Flower with candle wax, like Father had taught us, and together we handed it to Lydia to send to our mother.

Four weeks flew by and we received no word from Mother.

I found peace in the Temple of the Divines. Complete peace. Some days I would wake up early and walk over with our neighbour Vittoria Vicci. She was a beautiful woman, and she told me that she was the Emperor's cousin, and that she was engaged to a beautiful man. She liked to talk a lot, especially about her upcoming wedding, but when the sermons started, she became silent, as did I.

The temple was a magnificent place, with a ceiling so high not even a giant could touch it. The walls were dark and menacing. The stain glass windows and the men and women in priest robes were brilliant. The high priest of the Divines was called Rorlund. He wore orange robes like the other priests, and his hair was red and shoulder length, only he had a large bald spot at the top of his head. He bore a well-kept goatee and his voice boomed throughout the Temple.

"As high priest of the Nine Divines, I bid you welcome," he would begin. "Everyone is welcome in the sanctity of this Temple. Wander no more, for you are among friends here, and safe. Whether you be of grey skin or of North blood, this temple and this sermon and the words of the Divines were all written and built for you.

"Today, is the 31st of Evening Star, a glorious day all across Tamriel. The Old Life Festival takes place this night, and the New takes place tomorrow…" And so he went on, and I listened, and burned his words into my brain. As he spoke I remembered the New and Old Life festival of last year. Hroar and I had celebrated with all the other children and families during the evening. There were long tables set up along the roads of Solitude, filled with mountains of Sweetrolls and other treats. Bards from the Bard's college played music all throughout the streets. Everyone was dancing and everyone was happy. I even danced with the High King himself. I wondered if he and Father could still dance in Sovngarde. I wondered if it was even possible to count the years in Sovngarde.

We all celebrated ferociously and when the New Year begun, Lydia took Hroar and I home, as Mother and Father as well as the rest of the town moved the celebrations into the town's inn. "You don't want to go in there," Lydia would tell Hroar who was upset that he did not get to celebrate with the rest of the adults. "Free ale makes fools of respectable adults,"

"Mother and father would never act foolish," I protested, hopping into bed.

"I could tell you some stories, child." She told me before kissing my forehead.

"Please do," said Hroar as they left my room to go to his. Lydia laughed.

"Maybe when you're older," she told him before closing the door behind them.

This year was not so much fun. The celebrations were not as grand as the years before and Lydia refused to let us celebrate at the Winking Skeever, because of 'drunkards' whatever that meant. Hroar asked but I did not pay care to the response.

"Hroar?" I asked my brother. It was past our bedtime, and we were in our Mother's bed where we'd taken to sleeping. "When are Mommy and Daddy coming back?"

I could not see him, but I felt him shift under the sheets to turn to me.

"They're just taking longer so they can find us perfect presents," he told me. I smiled and hugged him. In each other's arms, we fell asleep.

"Hroar wake up!" I shook him. He groaned and rolled over, face down into the pillow. "Hroar! It's the New Life day!" Hroar groaned once more and rolled again, this time face up. His brows were furrowed, and his face was shiny. I placed my hands on his cheeks. They were warm and wet. I moved one hand to his forehead. It almost hurt to keep her hands there. Critter, who had been sleeping, hopped up onto the bed and licked Hroar's face. I frowned. What was wrong with Hroar?

I got off the bed and padded my way to Lydia's room. I knocked three times before she answered, still in her night robe. Her hair was a little messy and she stifled a yawn before asking, "What's wrong Loralei?"

"Hroar won't get up," I told her. She frowned before pushing past me to Mother's room.

Mother came home before he died. I waited outside his room with Lydia, and listened through the door, though I could only hear their mumbling. When Mother came out there was a Blue Mountain flower in her hand. I tried looking her in the eyes but she would not meet mine. She said only four words to us.

"We're going to Riften,"

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_I hope you enjoyed it :) Please review!_

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_Published on 17/02/2014_


	2. Chapter 2

**My Dear Fathers**

Chapter Two

We walked into Riften, only twenty-one hours after leaving my home. The journey was swift, as we took the main roads, but it was long. At first I had not wanted to leave and I managed to resist. But I found Critter lying dead in Hroar's bed. After that, I had never wanted to set foot in Proudspire Manor ever again. I knew that there was only false hope in pretending Father, Hroar and Critter would return. I knew that when Critter went to join Hroar in Sovngarde, it was time we moved on as well.

I held Mother's hand with my right, the left occupied by my doll favourite doll, whose painted eyes were beginning to wear. Lydia walked behind us.

Riften was a strange place. The smell was quaint and the sky was grey. Everything seemed broken or old and everything was made of wood, even the roads and the houses and the lamp posts.

Mother walked up to a man who leaned against a short support post. He wore steel armor and a dark frown. His black hair was pulled back and his thick dark brows were furrowed. "I don't know you," he said to Mother. "You in Riften looking for trouble?" Mother gripped my hand tighter, and slowly guided me to stand behind her.

"What's it to you?" she demanded. The large man sneered, taking a step towards Mother, towering over her.

"Don't say something you'll regret. Last thing the Black-Briars need is some loudmouth tryin' to meddle in their affairs."

"Well, I can assure you that you won't be worrying about that. I can promise that as long as you stay away from my home and my family, you and your little Black-Briars will not have a problem with me." The man snorted and returned to leaning against the post. As Mother walked on, I clenched onto my doll, following close behind.

At first Riften seemed small, compared to the vast and beautiful city that was Solitude. We stopped at the Bazaar in the centre of the city, and Mother told me to wait with Lydia near the railing. A dirty old man sat near a pile of barrels next to us. He looked at us funny, but said nothing. Curiously, I looked over the rail and saw water. "What yer seein' is the side of Riften dat people like yerselves like to ignore. Best ye not fall over or ye might not come back up." The strange bum snickered as I inched closer to Lydia's side.

I did not like it in Riften. It scared me. The grey sky and the underground city made me feel unwelcome, as did the leering eyes of the strange people who were stuck here. They all sneered and begged for coin, and I did not know why. The hammering of the anvil unnerved me and its steady rhythm was like a drum beat at the back of my mind that I could not ignore. A strange man selling strange potion looked at Mother funny, and she looked at him back. Grey skins littered the streets and a mean lady behind a market stall kept yelling at us.

Mother yelled a lot too. I tried never to hear her, but it was always hard to block out. She yelled at Lydia, which made me sad because Lydia was always so good to Mother. When Mother stopped yelling, I would give Lydia lots of hugs to try and make her not sad, but that made Mother cry. A lot of things made Mother cry. I knew I was supposed to be sad too, but I did not cry. I loved my father and I loved my brother but I knew they were together. I thought it was so that they could get close like Father and I were; just like Mother and I could get close like her and Hroar. When I told her this, she hugged me.

Mother came back a few moments later, and handed me some taffy. I let go of Lydia to take it, and followed Mother once more.

Our home was in a nice little crook in a corner of the city. _Honeyside_ my mother called it. It was perhaps the only actually pretty thing in the city, including its people. It was very small, much smaller than Proudspire Manor, though I suppose there all many things I learned to love about it.

The first time I saw the small garden at the side of the house, I must say I was disappointed. It was small, and not much to look at. As I reached for a flower with purple petals, Lydia slapped my hand away. "Don't touch those, any of them," she instructed me. Hroar would have asked why. Instead, I nodded, and followed Mother inside. The first room we entered had a small, square wooden table, a cooking hearth, and shelves cluttered with food and utensils. Past the hearth was a balcony door which lead to the outside of Riften. Past that was another room, Mother's room I presumed. To the right of her bed chamber, was a stairway leading to the basement. I descended it, the wood creaking beneath my feet.

My bedroom was much smaller than the one I had in Solitude. This one had a square shape and stone walls, with a single elegantly framed bed filling the majority of the left wall. I had a chest, a bookshelf, a wardrobe and a practice dummy. I had shelves as well, but they were empty. I placed my doll on the lowest of the shelves and I hoped one day she wouldn't be lonely.

I shut the door behind me and sighed.

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"Never done an honest day's work in your life for all that coin you're carrying, eh lass?" the man with the Red hair and funny accent said, looking at Mother, with that strange look he'd given her days before.

It had been a few days since we'd moved in, and Mother and I were visiting the Bazaar to purchase food and books for my bookshelf. It was surprisingly sunny though the air was cold and dry. Mother frowned at the man, gripping onto my small hand a little tighter.

"I'm sorry, what?" she said, putting her free hand on her hip.

"I'm saying you've got the coin but you didn't earn a Septim of it honestly," the man smirked, not breaking from the hard glare Mother was sending his way. "I can tell."

"My wealth is none of your business." Mother huffed.

"Oh, but that's where you're wrong, lass. Wealth _is_ my business," His smirk widened into a leering grin. "Maybe you'd like a taste?" Mother cocked her brow and then looked down at me.

"Go to the temple, Loralei," she told me, letting go of my hand. I nodded and turned away, hearing her ask the man, "What did you have in mind?"

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The Temple was another one of Riften's strange places, and the first thing I thought of when I entered the Temple was of Rorlund. I tried to imagine him being in a place like this but somehow it didn't fit. The Head Priest, Maramal was something completely different than Rorlund. He was Redguard for one, and wore a hooded Monk cloak, which shielded most of his dark face.

As I walked in, the soles of my shoes clanking against the wood, I listened with the rest of the room to his sermon.

"Mara, Goddess of Love, patron of the bountiful earth, and source of moral compassion and understanding," Maramal began. "Nearly revered as a universal goddess, her origins are in mythic times as a fertility goddess."

I took my seat next to another one of the Temple's priestesses, feeling comfort next to her. Maramal's sermon was shorter than I thought it would be, but nonetheless uplifting. When he was finished and the citizens of Riften began to disperse, I turned to the Priestess I'd sat next to.

"Pleased to meet you, I'm a Priestess here at the Temple." The lady with the dark skin began.

"I am Loralei, daughter of Onmund and Elaira."

"Lady Mara bids you welcome." I smiled to her. "What is it you seek, my child?"

"My mother told me to come here," I told her.

"A wise Mother she is, leading you on the path to Mara," the Priestess told me. "I am to be a mother soon as well," My eyes widened.

"A baby?" I exhaled. The Priestess nodded. "I've never met a baby!" The Priestess giggled and placed a hand on her stomach.

"I pray to Mara each morning and each night my child my grow to term,"

"I'll pray for you too," I told her with a grin.

"Who is this?" The familiar voice of Maramal asked.

"This is Loralei, daughter of Onmund and Elaira," The Priestess said with a warm smile. Maramal raised his eyebrows and smiled.

"Onmund and Elaira are your mother and father?" I nodded. Maramal smiled and kneeled down. "I initiated their wedding, right here in this Temple, almost ten years ago,"

"Wow," I let out in an exasperated sigh. "That's a long time ago," Maramal chuckled and I returned his gleeful smile. I turned to look at the Priestess to see she was smiling as well, her hand still placed on her belly.

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As the weeks went on, my days became routine, as did Mother's. I would wake up every morn at seven and break my fast with Lydia and Mother. We would eat in silence, exchanging few courteous words in feeble attempts at small talk. It was the fifth of Sun's Dawn, and Mother had decided to cook us our meal. She'd made us eggs with pork strips and buttered breakfast cakes. It was simple, and not nearly as decadent as Lydia could have done it, but we all knew Mother was no cook. She'd done it, perhaps as a silent thank you to Lydia, who had helped us with our loss, a loss of her own.

"I like the cakes, Mama," I complimented, only receiving a soft smile from Mother who did not meet my eyes.

"Thank you, Loralei but never give a compliment for only the sake of pleasing," Mother told me, "If people's words are not true, then what good can they be?"

"Sorry Mama," I said. I had only meant for her to feel nice, I did not know why she would not just accept my words.

"You can apologize, but you are not sorry," she told me. We ate the rest of our meal in silence. When we were finished, Lydia took our plates and left to go clean them. "Loralei, are you ready?" I nodded. This was part of our routine now. Mother and I would take me to the Bazaar for the morning. I did enjoy it there, as I had grown fond of the vendors.

The first time I laid eyes on Marise, she frightened me. Her eyes were the colour of blood, and her skin few shades darker than the blue-grey of the sky. Her voice as hoarse and accented and I did not want to approach her. However, one day, as I sat on a barrel while I waited for Mother, I watched her. A man with dark skin approached her, with a nervous smile. She smiled at him. It was not a pretty smile, but neither was it menacing. Perhaps the dark man thought it pretty.

"Hi Marise, how are you today?" The dark man asked, albeit a little nervously.

"I'm well," she began, her awkward smile growing slightly more relaxed. "How are things over at the stables? Is Hofgrir giving you a hard time?"

"Nah…he's fine," He smiled cheekily, comfortable, before hesitating for a moment. "Look, I wanted to ask if you'll… um, if you'd like to… well, like to have a drink with me at the Bee and Barb some time?"

"Shadr, that's so sweet," Her smile widened until I don't think I could go any more. "I'd love to."

I smiled as he walked away, a goofy grin meeting his face. Marise noticed me looking as she turned to me and froze. "You know kid, you really should not eavesdrop." At first I felt fright once more, but then Marise let out a childishly girlish giggle, and I met it with a smile.

Madesi was a strange looking thing, a creature I'd never seen before. I asked him why he looked so funny. When Mother heard me ask that she hit me on the back of the head and told me not to be rude, however Madesi merely laughed.

"I am but an Argonian, with the finest Argonian baubles in all of Skyrim," Mother did not laugh, but I saw a hint of a smile grace her lips, and that was enough to fill me with joy.

The vendors, even the mean lady, Grelka had grown used to my morning presence and I enjoyed it there at the Bazaar. I'd grown used to the vendors' voices, and I'd come to memorize their faces. This day was not particularly different, with people walking aimlessly around the market stalls, buying things here and there. The air was still cold and dry from winter, and there was a light snow falling from the now-white sky. As Mother and I walked around, sometimes chatting, sometimes just looking, I could hear the rhythmic hammering of the anvil. I had grown to find comfort in its rhythm, and the hammer kissing steel played like a song echoing in a strange melody from all the corners and crooks in Riften.

I had yet to meet the Blacksmith, as Mother told me he was always busy, but sometimes his song would stop and he and Mother would smile and wave from afar. On that non peculiar day, I decided to approach the Man. He was strong as an ox and as big as one too. He seemed young with a handsome face and thick blond hair which was pulled away from his eyes. Sweat trickled down his face and down his closely trimmed beard as he bore a look of hard concentration.

It took him a moment to notice me standing there. When he looked up, I and lowered his hammer, I realised that he was not as young as I thought he was. There were soft lines near his mouth and in the corner of his eyes, which I realised were the colour of the Riften sky. "You shouldn't stand so close to the forge, kid." He said; his voice low like a growl.

"I'm sorry, Mister." I turned to walk away, my cheeks growing red with embarrassment.

"Wait—" he called. "What's your name?" I turned, my head lowered slightly.

"Loralei," I told him.

"I'm Balimund. Where are your parents?" I fidgeted with my dress as I looked back up at his face.

"Mama's at the Market," I told him. He looked past me for a moment, and then smiled. He raised his hand and waved, his grey eyes glinted as I presumed Mother waved back.

"That's some Mother you got there." I looked to where he looked, to see Mother lowering her hand. Her red hair vibrated in the dullness of the colours around her and she smiled as she returned to speaking with Brand-Shei, who had just been released from prison a few days prior. "Hey, kid," I looked back at the Blacksmith. "Tell your mom we ought to all have dinner some time," I grinned at him and scurried back to Mother.

After our morning at the stalls, Mother walked me to the Temple of Mara, and kissed me on the cheek. "Be good. And when you go home, stop at the smithy and tell Balimund that he and his son should visit us for supper." I hugged Mother and proceeded into the Temple like the day before.

* * *

It had been a few months now, a few weeks until Hroar and my name day and although I had found a certain company with the adults around Riften, and even Balimund's adoptive son, I felt lonely. In Solitude I had had many friends. I always had Hroar and even Svari and Kayd. We would play tag and hide-and-seek and waste our days away. In Riften, my only friend seemed to be Asbjorn, who Mother and I had been seeing more and more frequently. He was sixteen, and his Naming Ceremony was coming up in a days. We oft sat in his and Balimund's home, and drank warm drinks. Asbjorn was a funny boy, with a nice smile.

"Did you know your real parents?" I asked him, silently sipping on my drink. I snuggled into my blanket while he thought for a moment.

"Grelod said my ma and da left me at the Honorhall Orphanage here in Riften when I was just a baby… she said that… that they didn't want me," He took a long drink from his cup, and looked at me. "But Balimund is the greatest man I have ever known. He took me in and had been so kind to me," He paused again to take another sip as he stared at the fire; the dancing flames stirring in his blue eyes. "I don't know why, but he thinks I can be a great blacksmith like him. At first… at first I didn't know why he picked me. I never even held a hammer in my life! But…" He looked at me and smirked, a peculiar twinkle in his eye. "But the first time I picked up that hammer… it just felt so right.

"Folks in town say that Balimund is the greatest blacksmith in all of Tamriel. I hope I can live up to that someday… and make him proud of me… you know?" He laughed at himself. "Sometimes I forget you're just six."

Neither of us said a word for a few minutes, only finishing our cups. "I think my Mama likes your Pa…" I said. I don't know why I said it, or even if I understood the implications myself, but it came out.

"They're old friends you know… I'm not sure how they knew each other but they did. Balimund has said much about your mother," Ansbjorn told me, setting down his cup and laying back.

"What has Balimund said?" I asked, resting my head on my elbows.

"He told me that your mother has never known her birth parents… like me."

"Mama was an orphan?" I asked, frowning.

"Not quite. Your mother was raised in an Altmer family along the Summerset Isles. Father said she spoke often of her older brothers… she had three."

"I used to have a brother."

* * *

"Fire-Tamer," Maramal pronounced as the entire town erupted into cheers.

* * *

When Ansbjorn Fire-Tamer had left Riften to apprentice at the Sky-Forge, I found myself lonely once more. Lydia, Mother and even Balimund had tried very hard to make me, happy but I did not feel it. On my name day, it all became much worse. I never thought that I would miss sharing that day with Hroar, but it's the most peculiar feeling when you no longer have anyone to share a Name wish. I missed Hroar's voice and how each year on this day he would so happily proclaim, "I'll still be forever older than you." He was wrong of course, as we would never be the same age ever again. Hroar would not get to turn seven. He would never receive a Ceremony of his own. He would never know his true name.

When summer came, many things began to calm. The sky of Riften began to look just slightly less grey, and I could walk outside in my pretty dresses. The chest in my once-empty room was stuffed to the brim in stuff I'd collected from around the city. When Mother came home from her little trips around Skyrim for her work with the Red-haired man, I would take something pretty from the chest and give it to her. Lately, Mother had been giving me many beautiful things, which now decorated and over-filled my bedroom. Among these beautiful things had been a book with a pretty brown leather cover. It had been worn, but it was still beautiful. 'Beggar' Mother told me was its name.

I could not read it yet, so I had asked the Priestess, who's belly had continued to grow, to teach me.

"All right," she began. "Would you like to start from the beginning or should we continue on from where we left?" I opened my book to the first page.

"From the start," I smiled.

"All right, you know this part well, you should read." I nodded and began.

"_Eslaf Erol was the last of the litter born of five born to the Queen…_"

* * *

The child was born on the 25th of Last Seed, three days before my Mother's 32nd. I met the child only hours after she was born. "What's her name?" I asked, gently touching her pointed ears.

"Evesa," Maramal told me. "She's beautiful, isn't she?" I nodded, afraid to touch the tiny being.

"She's so small," I said, moving my hand away from her ear. She had her Mother's ears, and her Mother's skin, but when Evesa opened her eyes, she was all Maramal.

I placed the Blue flower I'd been holding in my hand on the bed, and smiled.

"Thank you for letting me meet her," I said. Maramal and the Priestess chuckled.

"Of course, Loralei. Dinya and I adore you, as we know Evesa will come to. Maramal kissed the top of my head.

* * *

For Mother's 32nd birthday, she and Balimund went away, but she told me she would be back. I did not mind of course, as Mother seemed happy, and I still had Lydia. Together, we read _Beggar_. It was the first time I'd read it through all by myself.

On the 30th of Frostfall, I met Runa for the first time. It was the Emperor's Birthday, and even the orphans at the Honorhall Orphanage were out to celebrate. The entirety of Riften sang songs and danced and drank, and even the Honorhall Children were at the food table devouring the Sweetrolls. There was only one girl within the crowd. She was around my age, and she was beautiful. Even my seven-year old self felt envy.

"Who are you," she asked me. My voice caught in my throat as I tried to answer.

"I'm- I'm Loralei," I stuttered.

"Runa," she smiled. "Now dance with me!" Runa grabbed my hands and began jumping around, and I followed suite, my skirts twirling around my feet. Runa began to sing to the music playing around us. I joined her in an instant.

"_Oh! There once was a hero named Ragnar the Red!_"

* * *

The months that followed were beautiful. The beginning months of 4E 203, were especially. I had been learning more and more from Maramal and the Priestess, whose name I'd finally learnt. Dinya had offered to teach Runa as well, but Grelod, the scary lady that ran the orphanage refused. Instead, after my lessons I'd run over to the Orphanage and teach her what I'd learned. Runa was very smart, and she learned quickly, even with my poor teaching skills. I liked her very much. The things she said were perhaps a little rude, but they oft made me laugh, and I could only forgive her, as her upbringing differed greatly compared to mine. Grelod was a mean old lady, and I often saw the Orphans with scars and bruises, which I was certain were given by her wrinkled hand.

The other lady that took care of the Children was much different than Grelod, but she said nothing, not ever. I tried not to blame her, as I could tell even she was scared of Grelod, but sometimes even my happy Runa would be too run down to see me, and Constance could only look on guiltily.

I tried seeing Runa every day, and Lydia and Maramal were happy I had made a friend, but some days Grelod would not let me in. The days that she did, she sent glares my way, and she told me that had my mother been anyone different, I would not be able to set a foot onto the property.

Once, in the early days of Morning Star, Mother and I had bought Runa a book of her own, with a simple brown leather cover with gold entwining patterns working along the sides of the cover, spine and back. The pages were thick and the font curvy and readable. Mother had told me it was the first book she'd ever received, and I figured since I'd been teaching Runa how to read, she might love it as much as Mother.

I had walked straight into the Orphanage, Mother kissing me before she walked back home. Runa was sweeping the floors, and she looked as beautiful as ever, her scars and bruises beginning to clear. I strode over to her, Francois and the rest of the boys ignoring me.

I had wrapped a Red ribbon around the book, in an attempt to make it festive. I had chosen it specially, and I wanted Runa to love it. Runa smiled up as she saw me, her eyes eventually looking to the object in my hands. I held it out to her. "Happy New Life!" I proclaimed. She beamed, and set aside the broom to take the book in both her hands.

"This is… whoa…" she said as she inspected the book, running her fingers along the gold borders.

"It's for you," I said with a smile.

"For… me?" she asked, looking up from the book with unsure eyes. I nodded excitedly. Runa beamed and jumped onto me. We both fell to the floor giggling. A silhouette peered over us. I looked up, it was Grelod. With her wrinkly old hands, she snatched the book from Runa, leaving her slightly staggered. Looking up at Grelod from the floor seemed like looking up to a Giant, snarling and ready to tear apart anything in its way.

"What's this you have here?" she asked, sneering.

"A book," I answered; my small voice shaky. Her head snapped my way.

"I know what it is! Do you think I'm a fool?!" she sneered, looking at Runa now, who for the first time ever looked frightened. "Is this _yours_?" Runa nodded, looking as though she wanted to run away from the scary old bat that stood in front of us. Grelod laughed now, throwing her head back, her ugly thin hair falling faintly from her bun. Looking behind her, Grelod tossed the book, still tied up with the pretty ribbon I had chosen with Mother, into the flames which heated the old and battered cooking pot. "It isn't as if you could read it anyway," she said, grabbing the broom Runa had just previously set aside. Grelod sneered once more and threw it at Runa, who was still on the ground. The broom hit her on the side of her forehead. I clattered beside her, and she brought her hand up to caress her head. "Clean up your mess, you filthy child," Grelod said before turning to me. "And you. Get out." I stood up, and looked over at Runa who had her head bowed, sweeping the floors once again. I looked at the remains of that pretty book crumpling in the fire, before I walked out. My eyes locked with Constance as I strode to the door.

* * *

"Do you love Mommy?" Balimund laughed, tying on his apron. It was a sunny day, especially for Riften, and sweat ran down Balimund's face. It was especially hot near his old forge, and I wore a sundress, even this early in the year. It was the twentieth of First Seed to be exact. The snow had cleared completely and I could see the beginning bloom in our garden.

"Don't ask stupid questions," he began; a smile still on his face as he sat down at the anvil. I huffed and responded,

"The priestess Dinya says there are no stupid questions." He laughed in return, still looking at me with those grey eyes of his.

"You shouldn't believe everything anyone tells you," he told me, picking up a hammer and some metal. "Trust is not forgiving, not here,"

"In Riften?" I offered.

"In Tamriel," he said, hammering away.

* * *

On my eighth, I felt a little less lonely than my seventh, as Runa was allowed to eat with me. Lydia had made me all of my favourite foods, and they made up a pile on the table. Runa and I devoured it entirely, as Mother and Lydia played some songs together. I received many gifts that I offered to share with Runa. However, she declined, telling me that the food was more than enough. After eating our morning away, we played in the streets, collecting the pretty flowers we found hidden away in Riften's shadows. Among the dozens we found, rested a single flower with petals tainted Blue.

I brought it to Mother when Runa went back, and though she accepted it with a smile, she'd quickly run to her room, closing the door behind her. Silently, I made my way down to my own, thinking of crowns made of flowers and a brother who painted them Blue.

* * *

"Grelod is dead," Runa told me. "Constance told us she died in her sleep!" I smiled. Father and Lydia told both Hroar and I than any death is a sad one, and that all lives should be cherished and respected. But no one will ever miss Grelod.

* * *

Summer came quicker than I thought it would, and everything seemed quite happy. I spent my days playing with Runa, and even sometimes Francois, who seemed a little bit nicer than the other orphan boys. Sometimes Runa and I would attend the Temple together and play with Evesa, who had grown bigger and faster than I thought possible. Mother too seemed happier than I'd ever seen her since Hroar and Father joined Ysgramor. Sometimes, I could see a ghost of a memory flash through her green eyes, but before I could say anything or even react, it was gone.

I still missed my father and my brother ferociously and each day I would pray for their happiness in Sovngarde. I loved them, and to this day I still do. But I had long accepted that their journey would differ from mine until one day we could meet once more, and together we could be as we were supposed to.

Sometimes I thought that perhaps in another life, Father and Hroar would have never perished, and I would still call Hroar names and fight over Critter. Mayhap in this life, Father would have taught me magic, and Mother would have taught Hroar how to wield a bow. In this life, when Hroar and I were grown, Father would put a Crown of Blue on my head, and walk me down the aisle as Hroar and his pregnant wife would watch next to Mother, still clad in her black armour. In this life, Hroar and I would be neighbours, never too far from one another, and our children would grow up like brothers and sisters rather than the cousins they were. In this life, we would die old and be buried in the Solitude cemetery, not as boy and old lady, but as old siblings, sharing not only the 28th of Rain's Hand, but everything in between.

It took me a lifetime, but I learned that this wasn't my life. It wasn't the reality of what was. It broke me, but my destiny was to move on, and to forgive those unforgiving Gods. Perhaps it was Mother's as well, but she was never one who followed the rules.

* * *

Before I knew it, it was the spring of 4E 204, and I sat in the Temple of Mara in a pretty new dress. "It was Mara who first gave birth to all of creation," Maramal began, his hands in the air in ceremonial prayer. "And pledged to watch over us as all her children. It is from her love of us that we first learned to love one another. It is from this love that we learned that a life lived alone is no life at all."

Mother looked beautiful, her curly hair falling freely over her shoulders. She wore a long white gown, adorned with Blue lining. She wore on her head not a crown of Blue Flowers, but a circlet, made of silver and stones of blue Sapphire. Her lips were pale and her cheeks lightly freckled. Painted on her was war paint the colour of onyx, her green eyes shining brighter than ever.

"We gather here today, under Mara's loving gaze to bear witness to the union of two souls in eternal companionship. May they journey forth together in this life and in the next in prosperity and poverty, and in joy and hardship." Maramal looked from my beautiful mother to Balimund, whose face looked as beautiful as I'd ever seen it. "Do you agree to be bound together, now and forever?"

Balimund looked at Mother, his stare hard, and strange like all of the things I'd come to love in Riften. She stared right back, her gaze harder than even his and hard as it had always been.

"I do," Balimund rasped like an aria. "Now and forever,"

Mother chuckled, the hardness of her eyes changing to wetness. I saw Balimund's mouth quirk up as well, though he had no tears. Still, I could see his eyes soften as Mother said the words we all waited for.

"I do," Mother laughed once more. "Now and forever," They exchanged their favours, which were two Ebony daggers, one Red and one Green. As they leaned in to lock their mouths and the vows they swore, I closed my eyes.

At the celebration, the people attending went to congratulate Mother, though one remained at the food tables, drinking from his half-empty bottle of ale. My eyes locked with the green of his, but only for a moment as he ran a hand through his red hair and turned around.

Runa grabbed my hands and together we danced like the day we first met, our song sung like it should be.

"_OH! There once was a hero name Ragnar the Red!_"

* * *

_Thank you for reading! And thanks to everyone who reviewed, I really love to hear your thoughts! Once again, please review!_

* * *

_Published on 21/02/2014_


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